


He's a little... Well, he's a Murdock.

by KittensAreDeadly



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:18:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittensAreDeadly/pseuds/KittensAreDeadly
Summary: "Look, Foggy knew that Matt was a little… screwy, since he first started rooming with the kid, okay?"Basically, a look at Matt Murdock and his super-fucked-up past. Very self indulgent. Very angsty. VERY cringey.





	1. Meeting The Triple M!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this sucks, I'm not good at writing. I've been doing some research into effects of child abuse on adults and how maternal depression effects infants, and I thought that some people would enjoy reading how Matt might cope with some issues that he has due to his past. Maybe some can relate to how he handles things, and maybe we can all glean something from this. Also, I fucking love Foggy. He's my everything.
> 
> Edit: I fixed the weird spacing... sorry about that! The original was written using google docs, so it looked different there then it does here. So hopefully, it'll be more comfortable to read. <3

Look, Foggy knew that Matt was a little… screwy, since he first started rooming with the kid, okay?

Foggy was receptive. He understood that everyone had issues, no one was perfect, and things happened. Especially for someone who was in the newspaper for being a hero at the age of nine. That’s not to say that Foggy didn’t worry about Matt.

No, no, Foggy worried about Matt a lot. But Matt was just so… well, Matt. How could you not worry about him?

The thing is, the first day Foggy met Matt, he knew they’d be friends. After their awkward introduction, they’d begun talking about their classes.

  
  


“Oh, I am _so_ not excited about this- fuckin’- ‘Intro to Tax Law’ class.”

Matt’s stomach dipped sharply with a silent huff of a laugh.

“It won’t be that bad. Might even be useful. Save us a hell of a lot of money.”

“Maybe. But the class is so early…” Foggy looked up to Matt with a pleading expression, fully aware that his efforts were wasted. “Maybe my new roomie would lend me the notes for that class?”

Matt laughed aloud that time, though he cut it off quickly. “You’ll have to learn braille, but that’s fine by me. I record all the lectures, anyway.”

“You are a saint. Saint Matthew. I praise you.”

“Watch out, I’m a false idol.”

Foggy laughed and got up from the bed he and Matt had been perched on to put his schedule back in his bag before whipping back around to face Matt, marginally more serious.

“Wait… are you really religious?”

“As in _actually_ religious or _super_ religious?”

“Uh- both,” Foggy stammered.

“Yeah… that an issue?”

Foggy smiled wryly. “No- I mean, you weren’t, like, offended by my joke, so… No issue.”

Matt returned the smile. Somehow, it was far more sardonic than Foggy’s had been. He got up from the bed as well.

“So, uh, who’s side is whose?”

Foggy looked around with a hum and a frown. The bed they’d just been sitting on was closest to the door. Foggy wasn’t a huge fan of being so close to the door. Besides, the other bed had a window beside it, which made it pretty dang cool.

Even so, Foggy said, “You choose, man. I don’t mind either way.”

Matt’s eyebrow twitched before he said, “Well, I don’t care much for the view. I’ll take this one, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” He gestured to the bed closest to the door, and Foggy laughed, nodding.

“Oh, I just nodded, by the way.”

  


\------

  
  


The next morning went by way smoother than Foggy had thought it would. Matt and Foggy had to share the bathroom with the students in the room next to them. Which, okay, not all that strange for a super-cheap dorm room, but still.

Either way, he and Matt got to their first class of the day (and their only shared class of the semester) a whole fifteen minutes early. A record for Foggy, a stressor for Matt.

That being said, Matt was in a pretty good mood. He liked Foggy, liked the way that Foggy’s heart sung truth at the correct times. Liked the subtle things Foggy did to make everyone around him feel more at ease.

He couldn’t have asked for a better roommate.

Then Dr. Brennan Cauldwell walked into the room, demanding respect without speaking a single word.

Foggy noticed Matt tense up, shoulders raising, spine straightening. His posture as the professor entered the room would put royalty to shame.

It concerned Foggy, a tad.

“Shut it, class,” Dr. Cauldwell said, a little unnecessarily. “I am Dr. Brennan Cauldwell. I do have a doctorate in philosophy. You will not refer to me as ‘professor’, ‘doctor’, ‘Brennan’, or ‘Cauldwell’. You will refer to me as Dr. Cauldwell. Nothing more nothing less.”

Throughout his whole speech (which Foggy found to not only be utterly useless but also plain narcissistic), Matt remained taut as a bowstring.

Matt, of course, was internally losing his shit. Something about this professor reminded Matt so much of Stick that he couldn’t help his position in the slightest. Every time he tried to relax, his muscles involuntarily tensed right back up.

The 90-minute-long class ended up being awful for Matt, who shakily followed Foggy out of the classroom after they were dismissed.

Foggy immediately sat on a bench, hoping Matt would get the memo, and held his hands up placatingly, though not uselessly, palms facing up, almost as if to say “the fuck is your deal, bro?”

Matt took the hint and sat, all the tension having left his frame. Now he just looked a little shaky and pale.

“You good, pal?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, the professor just kind of… I don’t know, he freaks me out, I guess.”

Foggy didn’t really buy it, but he just met the kid, so what the fuck did he know? “Fair enough man. I mean, what was the speech at the beginning? ‘You are to call me Dr. Cauldwell.’”

Matt laughed shakily, but played along, adopting the same grandiose tone Foggy had mockingly used.

“‘Nothing more, nothing less.’”

 

\-------

\-------

 

Matt didn’t like to go to parties. Which, okay, fair enough. Shit’s disorienting even for a sighted person, so Foggy could sympathize.

Foggy did find it odd that Matt was so promiscuous, despite his perceived lack of “regular” college social interactions.

Where did Matt find these people?

“Bars” had been Matt’s answer.

“Wait, so you’re fine with bars, but not parties?”

Matt looked up from his desk, hair a mess (as per usual) and gave Foggy what could have been a glare (though his glasses made it hard to tell). He closed his book and turned his chair to face Foggy.

“Why do you ask?”

Foggy frowned. What’s with the dramatics? Suspicious…

“You’re hiding something.”

Matt could’ve been a sheet of paper.

“What?”

“You’re hiding something-”

“No, I’m not.”

“What is it? Are you a blackout drunk? Have beef with the frat bros?”

Matt let out an odd laugh, shaking his head.

“Foggy, I’m not a blackout drunk. College parties are just a lot louder than bars and stuff.”

Foggy looked disappointed, not that Matt could tell (or likely even care).

“Fine. Then I’m dragging you to a party.”

“Foggy, no-”

“It’ll be celebration! One-and-a-half-month roomie anniversary!”

“That’s not even a thing that exists.”

“It is now. Get your shit, study boy, we’re getting down and funky.”

“Dear lord, please stop,” Matt said, grabbing his cane anyway.

Okay, don’t tell anyone, but Matt really fucking appreciates Foggy. Yeah, sometimes he’s annoying, and he snores loudly, and he eats disgusting foods at ungodly hours and he walked in on Matt and a… visitor… once. But, really, Foggy was a blessing.

Even now, on their way to some party, Foggy was saying that he’d try to stay by Matt.

“And, I mean, you can leave whenever you want, man.”

Matt thought that was nice.

So they bumbled up to the frat house together, and Matt knew that this would be pretty hellish. The music had been too loud long before they actually even got near the building, of course, but now that he was closer he could smell the alcohol, and sweaty bodies, and cheap perfume all mingling together in a truly unpleasant way.

But he didn’t allow his discomfort to show outwardly. He forced his face to do that thing where he has no expression. He’s heard nuns comment on it before, so he knows it works.

“You good man? You’re doing that thing with your face. You only do that when you’re uncomfortable.”

What the fuck?? Um?? How long has Foggy known Matt?? Like, 6 weeks? Matt wanted to kick himself, but instead turned the charm up to eleven.

He flashed Foggy his most endearing smile.

“Nah man, this is great. Thanks for bringing me. Lets get some drinks.”

Foggy made a noise of vehement agreement and led Matt to what he assumed was the kitchen, which was just as packed as the foyet had been. He grabbed two beers from a cooler that was sitting on the counter and handed one the Matt.

“Foggy, beer before liquor never sicker. The heck are you doing?”

Only Matt could chide someone for their drinking habits while using ‘heck’ instead of ‘fuck’.

Foggy chuckled and set the beer back down before reaching for his best friend with a rose-gold lid.

“Tito’s, my sweet, come to daddy.”

Foggy poured a generous amount in two red solo cups he found on the counter and then left Matt momentarily to get some kind of soda from the fridge.

When he came back, two sprite cans in hand, he found Matt chatting with two girls. They giggled, and he grinned, and they elbowed each other and giggled some more.

Foggy thought he might develop a fucking aneurysm.

Matt turned to Foggy and said, “Hey, what drink did you get?”

“Sprite. What’s up, ladies?”

“Hey Foggy,” one said. She had an oddly high pitched voice, but it matched her bright pink bikini. The girl next to her had dark skin and a dazzling smile.

“Matt was just telling us about you… you’re in law school, too?”

Foggy chuckled a little nervously, and was about to answer when Matt patted his back and walked away with his drink throwing a “I’m gonna mingle. Have fun!” over his shoulder.

Foggy scowled at him before turning back to the girls with a charming smile.

“Yeah, I’m in law school. What about you guys?”

Matt kept track of Foggy’s conversation as he walked around. He knew that Foggy would be a bit worried about Matt going alone, but Foggy had been right. He needed to make a few ‘friends’ here, apart from Foggy.

“Hey-” a frat boy barked at Matt, who tilted his head in his direction.

“-What’s up? Guys, this is Murdock.” The frat boy, Marcus, if Matt was remembering correctly, draped a muscled arm over Matt’s shoulders and dragged him over, not unkindly.

A chorus of deep (and, frankly, somewhat silly) voices rose up, different variations of “What’s up, dude?” and “Hey, man!” until one stood out.

“Oh, shit, Matthew Murdock? Dude, I read about you when I was a kid. Fuckin’ sick.”

Admittedly, it took all of Matt’s self control to not say “watch your language- you sound like a middle schooler.” But he managed.

Instead he offered a self-conscious smile and said, “Yeah, yeah. Uh-”

“Read about him? What the fuck about?” Some kid piped up.

“Jackson, he saved some old dude.”

“You say it like I should’ve known. Who the fuck just knows shit like that, Jebediah?”

“Bro, if you grew up in the kitchen, you’d know.”

“The kitchen,” a new voice, with an odd lilt, added, “The fuck does that mean?”

Matt took this chance to butt in- “The name of our neighborhood.”

“Oh shit,” said Marcus, “I didn’t know that. Yo, did you and Jeb grow up together?”

“Nah, I only read about him.”

 

“MATT!?”

 

The frat boys held their heads up like a gang of meerkats on steroids, chests puffed out.

Foggy popped into the doorway. Matt gave him a wave and walked over nonchalantly.

“Marcus, I’ll talk to you later,” Matt called, grabbing Foggy and moving him away.

  
  


On their way out, three hours later, stumbling over each other, Foggy chuckled.

“Dude, you are a social fuckin’ butterfly.”

“Language.”

“Right, shit. Sorry.”

Matt laughed, only half hysterical.

Foggy stopped, and gripped Matt’s shoulder solemnly. “I know you don’t really have many friends. But, I don’t even know you that well, and I’d be willing to say that we’re besties.”

“B-” cue lilted laughter, “-Besties? Are you a nine year old girl?”

“Joking to avoid difficult conversations! I knew that high school psychology class would work out in my favor!”

“Fine- You’re my bestie, too. Y-you know, I think you’re the first bestie I’ve ever had.”

Foggy laughed victoriously, then let it die into a chuckle: “That’s a little sad-”

“Heh, nah, man. It’s great.”

 


	2. The Curious Case of Matt's Drunk Ass [Except Not :( ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into how Matt learned to trust Foggy (who, admittedly, only earned the trust by being there, which is just kind of sad.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I freaking hate writing. But I've literally read all of the gosh-darned fan fics on this site. So I HAVE to write. Damn you, Daredevil, and your adorable characters and plot line!

They got drunk together many more times after the party, obviously. Though they tended not to go to parties, because Matt still wasn’t too fond.

Still, they shared some long, chill nights together.

After one particularly stressful week, Matt had picked up some gin. Somehow, the kid could drink it without ice, so Foggy had to run to the gas station down the road and grab a bag to put in their crappy little mini fridge.

By the time Foggy was back, Matt had had some, and he offered to get Foggy’s drink because he’d already had to go to the store. It didn’t take long before the two were good and drunk and plopped on the floor telling stories.

“So my sister grabs the scissors and- I shit you not- cuts off a chunk of her hair. Just to prove to me that it’d be okay.”

Matt gives Foggy that half-hysterical laugh and Foggy continues.

“Clearly, it didn’t work. I still have long hair, and nothing is changing that.”

Matt nodded, “Good. Makes it easier to tell what your head is doing.”

“Pfft- What?” Foggy laughed loudly.

“Y- I just mean, I could hear your hair. Like, against your shirt. Okay I’m awa-”

“You know how weird that sounds?”

“-Yeah, yeah I’m aware of how weird that sounds, but it’s true.”

They laughed together for a moment before Foggy looked to Matt, slightly more serious.

“Okay, your turn: How fuckin’ crazy was your family?”

“Language.”

Foggy snorted.

“I only had my dad, ‘til I was ten. Then I went to St. Agnes.”

“The orphanage?”

“Yeah. Well, I also had- mm. There was a guy, at one point, who, uh. Showed me how to be blind.”

Foggy laughed, but immediately felt a little bad about it. Matt didn’t seem to mind, although his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.

“You good man? Sorry if I-”

“No, no, Foggy,” Matt cleared his throat, “Uh, tell me more about your family. I like hearing about them.”

“Have I ever told you about how my mom wanted me to be a butcher?”

 

\----

 

The workload as of late was crazy. Now, that’s by Matt’s standards. Which meant that Foggy was literally drowning in assignments.

Luckily, with each others help, they could get everything done. Well, almost everything. Foggy could miss an assignment here and there. He knew which ones affected his grades the most and the penalties for turning them in late.

Luckily (as he’d learned in undergrad school) high school’s lied about how strict college professors are. The professors are usually pretty chill, really. So, yeah, Foggy could handle turning in an essay a day or two late.

Matt, on the other hand, was obsessive in getting everything done correctly and on time. Which meant that when his laptop gave him trouble while he was typing an essay for Dr. Cauldwell, he flipped out.

“Hey, Foggy?” He called from his desk.

Foggy looked up from his textbook.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I could- actually. No, nevermind. It’s due today. I’m heading to the library, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Matt stood and left, and Foggy thought little of it. That was, of course, until Matt barged back into the room a full hour later, looking red as a tomato.

“The fucking printers are down. Did you know that they use, like, a special printer system in the library? And it’s down. I’m gonna lose points for it being handwritten alone, and that’s if it’s even legible. I write like a goddamn three year old on crack.”

“Matthew, language,” Foggy tried to joke, but by this point he had already sat up, ready to help his friend in any way he could.

“Do you think he’d care if I had someone else write my essay? Like, I told someone what to write, and they wrote it?”

“Dude, what are you talking about?”

“The essay! For Dr. Cauldwell! You turned yours in already, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“My screen reader is being screwy. Which doesn’t matter, really, because the printers aren’t working.”

“Ohhh. Yeah. And, I mean, I get that he’s old, but does he have to make us turn in a printed copy of a typed up paper? Ugh.”

Matt clutched his cane, which he’d yet to put down, evidently, before saying something Foggy had never heard him say before.

“I have no clue what to do.”

Foggy nodded and stood, grabbing his backpack while addressing Matt.

“I can walk you to his office and we can explain the situation. I mean, I’m sure he’ll get it.”

“It’s eight o’clock already… do you really think he’ll be okay with us barging in?”

“Dude, people are still turning in their essays. That’s why he stays so late. I mean, he’s accommodating in that respect.”

Matt twisted his cane in his hand before nodding and adjusting his backpack.

“Thanks, Foggy. Let’s do this.”

 

Once they got to the office off the side of Dr. Cauldwell’s classroom, it was 8:30.

Matt was freaking out, but he didn’t let it show.

He asked Foggy to wait and knocked on the door to the office, only dimly aware (due to the vibrations from his knocking) that there were windows in the walls between the office and classroom so Dr. Cauldwell probably already knew that he was there.

The door opened and Matt felt his shoulders tense a little more.

“Dr. Caudwell, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could speak with you about this latest essay assignment.”

Dr. Cauldwell eyed Foggy, who simply smiled politely, before ushering Matt into his office and closing the door behind them.

“Of course, Mister Murdock. I see you don’t have it with you, so, let me guess, you want extra time? You think you’re entitled, because of your little-” he gestured vaguely to Matt’s face, “-difference in ability?”

Matt wasn’t sure if he was more surprised by his bluntness, pleased by his unwillingness to treat Matt any differently, angry for his assumptions about the situation, or straight up terrified.

So, instead of saying anything that could be understood, he simply gaped for a moment before stammering what was meant to be an apology.

“Just spit it out, boy!” Dr. Cauldwell finally snapped.

Matt suppressed a flinch poorly.

“Yes, Dr., of course, um. My computer won’t work. I mean the screen reader… So, I went to the library, but the printers are down anyway. And that’s where I go to print all of my papers for your class. They even have a braille printer there, which- Uh, yeah.”

If Matt could see, he would have been staring at Dr. Cauldwell, seeing what he’d do. Instead, his head was tilted, all attention on the prickly professor.

“Look, Murdock, I honestly don’t care. Get it to me by next Monday and you can still make up to an 85.”

Matt wanted to cry, but he made sure not to let it show. He nodded and thanked Dr. Cauldwell for his time, before exiting with Foggy quietly.

When they were back on the sidewalk, on their way to their dorm, Matt let himself relax.

“Dude, do you need to, like, sit down? You look pale as shit… paler than usual, at least.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Matt replied, following Foggy to a bench.

Foggy thought it was meant to be a joke, but Matt hadn’t so much as smiled when he’d said it.

“Why does that guy freak you out so much, man?”

Foggy knew that Matt was raised in an orphanage with some strict nuns, thanks to that one night they spent with gin, so he knew he was used to a strict authority figure… but what makes this guy different from other austere professors?

Matt was quiet for a bit, before clearing his throat and taking off his glasses. Foggy realized that this was probably a big deal. Matt didn’t take his glasses off around other unless he had to. “Dead stare” he’d said. “It makes people uncomfortable.”

Now, Matt’s unfocused eyes fixed sightlessly at the ground.

“You know that guy I was telling you about? The one who… um, led me through blindness?”

Foggy bobbed his head before mentioning that he’d nodded yes.

Matt gave him a ghost of a smile and continued: “He was… look, it wasn’t anything too bad, okay? But the way he taught was… unconventional. That’s all. So, just, the way that this guy, uh… moves? Acts? I don’t know- something about him reminds me of my mentor.”

Foggy wanted to say something along the lines of ‘dude, that’s fucked’ or ‘shit, you good?’ Instead he said, “Shude, thoo-” he broke off into unintelligible stammering. He stopped when Matt laughed a bit, and got himself together.

“Sorry, uh. Were you, like… I don’t know if this is okay to ask, man. Um, okay, are you okay?”

Matt grimaced a bit but tried for a smile.

“Yeah, Foggy, I’m good. Let’s get back to the dorm, it’s getting dark.”

Foggy took the obvious out: “Not that you’d care.”

Matt laughed indulgently.

Foggy found that he cared about this kid a whole lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Sorry, these aren't super long chapters or anything (but you may have noticed that I publish them quite quickly atm, and the answer to that mystery is: I have no life. Lord help me) But this one is even shorter than the last one... but idk, i feel like it has some slightly heavier stuff. That being said, strap in, this shit's gonna be HEAVY.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	3. Of the Past and Present; Dirt

Matt sat up in his bed, head cocked. There was a party in the next building over, but he could have sworn he heard someone call out for help.

Look, Matt didn’t do this often, okay? After Stick left, he had been lost. But he still heard everything. So he used what he’d been taught to help people.

Not anything too crazy at first. He’d hear a person cry for help in an alley a block or two over and he’d sneak out and hope that his presence alone could freak a potential criminal out. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. When it didn’t, Matt just got the victim out of the situation and taunted the hooligan ‘til he had to step in and knock whoever it was out. Not that big of a deal.

And it went on like that, for a while.

There were a few things he couldn’t do, like when Father Rhodes did bad things to the younger children. Matt knew what was happening, Stick made sure of it. Matt didn’t think someone like Father Rhodes could be stopped by sharp senses and a wicked jab alone, though.

So he plotted to have a trustworthy nun catch Father Rhodes. It worked. Father Rhodes left and never came back, and Matt remembered speaking to a nice lady who’d asked if Matt had been a victim. (Matt knew Stick was long gone, so he simply answered no. No, he’d never been a victim to Father Rhodes.)

After he’d started college, he’d almost had to stop completely. He simply didn’t have time to stop every mugger he heard. He could still stop worse ones in undergrad, and bear the guilt of allowing some to be hurt. But law school required a lot more than undergrad had.

Obviously, Matt still went out, sometimes. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t.

But he’d just come back from Rena’s dorm. Or was it Rain? She was hippy-ish, so it was probably Rain. Anyway, he’d just gotten back from her dorm room. So it was, like, four in the morning. Foggy was fast asleep. And they both had to get up in four hours for Dr. Cauldwell’s class, which Matt absolutely had to attend.

Still, this guy sounded… scared. Really, really scared, now that Matt was slightly more awake. So Matt got up and threw on what he hoped was dark colored sweats and a t-shirt and dashed out the door, not bothering to grab his cane. He still had his glasses on, so. Whatever.

Matt stepped down the hallway with his usual light steps, so as not to disturb anyone. It was near-silent to Matt, so he guessed that he was impossible to hear for a regular person.

He skittered down the stairs and out the front door, stopping momentarily to figure out where the ruckus was coming from. He ran forward a bit, cutting across the lawn and into an alley between two buildings (more dormitories. A lot of fuckin’ kids in this school.)

He found a guy- maybe 19- pressed up against the brick walls, begging the two in front of him to “Just take my fucking wallet and go, please.”

The kids in front of him weren’t much older. The girl stepped a bit closer, and Matt could practically taste adrenaline. “Shut the fuck up. Where’s your phone?” The kid felt his pockets in a panic and pulled it out.

“I-I forgot I had it on me, okay?”

 _Lie._ Matt didn’t blame him, though.

He took the chance to kick one of the thugs, who’d taken the phone and tried to unlock it (the idiot.) Matt knocked the guy to the ground, and crouched next to him, quickly kicking his right leg out, knocking the girl to her feet.

After a swift jab to the nose, the chick was knocked out. Matt stood and whipped his heel into the guy’s nose with a satisfying “crack”.

Matt pried the kids phone from his fingers and handed it to him.

“Call the police, explain exactly what happened. No need to lie. Stay safe.”

And with that, Matt ran back to his dorm. He had, like, 3 hours to hide his bloody clothes and get ready for class. The rest of the day is so gonna suck.

 

\------------------

 

Marci Stahl was fucking incredible. That was all Foggy could think, really. He’d first met her at some frat party, and she stole his heart. Her bright lipstick and even brighter eyes made him feel like he was in the middle of a hurricane, but he loved the feeling anyway.

Matt, of course, was a voice of reason: “Be careful, Foggy” “You’ve heard the rumors, Foggy” “She’ll break your heart, Foggy”

Foggy didn’t mind it. She could stomp all over his danged heart, for all he cared. As long as he got to be around her a little while longer.

That being said, when the other shoe dropped, he wasn’t as heart broken as he’d expected. He and Marci actually remained friends, and sometimes they’d go out drinking just like old times.

So when, on his way back from the library, Matt found Marci crying, alone, on a bench, he knew to stop and see what happened. Yeah, he’d warned Foggy, but he knew Marci wasn’t all that bad. And he wouldn’t admit it, but he did the exact same thing Marci did. Slept around, broke some hearts. Moved on. Maybe that’s why he had to stop when he smelled the salt of her tears and heard the choked gasps and sobs.

“Marci?” He called.

“...H-hey, Matt.”

Matt walked towards her, slowly. He wasn’t exactly sure what was wrong, but… she smelled like fear, sweat, and…

Matt shuddered and held out a comforting hand as he got closer, showing her that he was going to touch her shoulder.

She let him.

As he sat, he rubbed small circles into her back, wondering if it was okay to ask what he wanted to ask.

By now, he thought he might already know the answer. She spoke up before he got the chance, though.

“I know I’m a slut, but that doesn’t mean I asked for it.”

“Of course not… Do you want me to go, Marci? Call someone?”

“No- Can you just… stay?”

“Yeah.”

She sniffled, relaxed into his hand. He could feel her reach up and rub her face, probably trying to get rid of running mascara.

“He didn’t go all the way, thank god.”

Thank God, Matt thought.

“But it’s still scary. I don’t know why I’m still here. But I can’t… I can’t move.”

Matt understood completely. He couldn’t tell her that, though.

“Marci? Are you going to press charges?”

She snorted, “Of fucking course I am. Let that asshole hurt some other poor girl? He chose the wrong one, this time. I’m a fucking law student, Professor MacIntosh could supervise while I personally nail his ass.”

At least, now, her voice had color. Even if it was red with rage.

“Good. I’m here. Foggy still loves you, too, you know. We’ll back you.”

“I know. I love him too. Thanks, Matt.”

“No thanks needed, Marci. Let’s get you to your dorm, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

Marci’s case was wrapped up in two weeks. Jebediah Adams was sentenced to 8 years of prison.

(No one liked to mention how he'd probably only serve around 4.)

 

\------

 

“Thanksgiving is upon us, Matthew!” \

“Indeed it is, Franklin.”

Foggy cringed, yet, somehow, also laughed, as he grabbed a suitcase he’d stowed under his bed.

“Um, so… What’re your plans, Matt?”

Matt’s hand stopped over his braille textbook, and he turned his face towards Foggy before clearing his throat, “Uhm, probably going to be studying. Which, hopefully, you’ll be doing, too. Just, like, at your parents house.”

“Would you… uh, like, would you be offended if I asked you to come with me to my parents house? For Thanksgiving?”

A look of pure, unadulterated confusion drifted onto Matt’s face.

“Why would I be offended? More importantly, why are you asking at all?”

“Well, ‘cause, like, I want you to come hang out. Like, you’re my closest buddy. We live together. You’re basically already family.”

Matt thought he might cry, but he really didn’t want Foggy to see that, so he let his face drop completely and, as a back-up plan, turned away from Foggy.

He heard Foggy’s heartbeat speed up considerably.

“I’d love to come with you.”

Foggy’s heartbeat skipped a beat and then evened out.

“Great, dude! Woulda sucked if you’d said no, ‘cause I already told ‘em that you’re coming. So, get packed!”

Getting there took way less time than Matt anticipated. Then, he wondered why he and Foggy had packed so much. Whelp. He supposed that they were going to stay at Mr. and Mrs. Nelsons house. (Probably in a guest room. Matt wondered what that would be like. Even before St. Agnes, his house never had a guest room. His grandma’s may have had one, but he could hardly remember her anyway…)

Matt was glad that Foggy’s family was close. Sitting on the bus even for this long was almost unbearable. Luckily, they had to switch buses halfway through, so Matt got a short break, but it was still difficult to tolerate.

Foggy ended up sharing stories about his family the whole time, by Matt’s request. He hadn’t just been trying to change the subject when he’d said that he liked hearing about Foggy’s past. He genuinely enjoyed the stories.

“-And so my aunt went to jail for attempted manslaughter. Of course, my uncle didn’t press charges, so they didn’t keep her there for long. And get this, they’re still married to this day.”

Matt laughed, “What? How?”

“I honestly have no clue. I mean, love is love, I guess.”

“Wow.” Matt maintained a kind of dumbfounded smile. He was excited to meet Foggy’s folks.

“What about you, man? Erm, any weird family stories?”

Nodding, Matt shifted in his seat a bit, thinking of the only clear memory he had of his grandmother.

“I mean, it’s not as interesting as any of yours, but I used to go to my grandma’s house on Thanksgiving, with my dad. This one time, Gram burned the turkey and blamed it on my grandpa. Of course, my grandpa told her not to worry about it and tried to calm her down. And my dad offered to go to the store, and, uh… Get a new turkey. Like, one of those pre-cooked ones, if he could. If he had to, he’d just stop by KFC, y’know? So Gram made me stay with her while my dad went out.

He came back, like, an hour later, covered in blood. I mean, blood leaking from his nose and his face. His lip was split and his knuckles were wrecked… I can’t remember the exact colors now, but I know they weren’t pretty. And, lo and behold, he holds up two pre-made rotisserie chickens like a trophy. I was too young to understand, obviously, but apparently on his way to the store, he’d been jumped. By, like, three guys. Gram, meanwhile, is just scowling over her cold mashed potatoes. And she says ‘I should have gone on my own. You Murdock boys, you got the devil in you.’ She said that a lot, I think.”

Foggy huffed a laugh. “Dude, your dad was hardcore.”

“Yeah, Battlin’ Jack Murdock. Absolutely hardcore.”

“Wait- isn’t that the guy that…” Foggy managed not to say ‘got brutally murdered in a back alley’, but he really wanted to, “... That was your dad?”

“Yeah. I thought you knew.”

“Just… never made the connection. Murdock. Hm. Explains a lot.”

“What do you mean?” Matt lost the little smile that he’d maintained through his story.

“Well… just, like, how you know how to box. I’ve seen you do that thing.”

“Oh, shadow-boxing?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I don’t know any good gyms by Columbia, so I can’t go actually hit a bag anymore.” Foggy didn’t ask why his fists were still bloody sometimes, if that was the case.

                                                                                               ====== TBC =======


	4. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt experiences a Nelson Thanksgiving. He loves these whackos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, this chapter kinda sucks, I know. It's also coming out way slower because Thanksgiving break has come to an end for me. Sorry about that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

“My boy! Oh- and you must be Matthew!” Anna pulled Matt into a warm hug, squeezing tightly.

“Yes, hi, Mrs. Nelson.”

“Oh, you need some food, dear! You’re downright malnourished!”

Matt laughed, aware of his own blush. Foggy cut in, “alright, alright”, and everyone was ushered into the warm house.

No one else was over yet and Foggy’s dad was at work still. It was just Foggy, Matt, and Anna.

Anna walked them upstairs to a comfy little guest room with a smell of new plastic and dryer sheets. Matt loved it.

She rushed down stairs, yelping something about laundry and settling in. Matt was busy clicking his fingers, trying to figure out the new room. 

While foggy heaved his suitcase onto the bed and started unpacking, he apologized to Matt about the room.

“I mean, a few of the cousins decided to stay in the hotel down the road anyway, so that’s good, but there’s still only two guest rooms. And, I mean, I guess I could sleep with little one’s in the living room, but we share a room together regularly, so, I figure, what’s the point?  You don’t mind, right, Matt?”

Matt had clicked his way through the hallway and into the bathroom, but quickly popped his head back into the guest room to answer Foggy.

“Yeah, man, I don’t mind. Actually, I was pretty worried about putting someone else out. Didn’t you say your aunts and uncles are all coming?”

Foggy smiled, turning to Matt, “I mean, yeah, but I am one of the few coming from college. And, they all know I brought a friend. They don’t mind, Matt, trust me.”

Matt nodded and smiled, then picked up his own suitcase. He felt at home already.  
  


 

 

Early the next morning, the Nelson family arrived. Matt was completely overwhelmed, of course.

The thing is, Matt is used to a lot of input. That being said, he’s also used to having all sorts of mental filters up, only getting the information that’s essential for him to move through his life. He could easily sort out the background noise.

At the Nelson household, all of the noise is pertinent. Each individual family member seemed to be having at least three separate conversations with various other family members all at once. 

That wasn’t to mention the smells. It wasn’t that the Nelsons smelled bad- far from it. It was just a lot, all at once. And all of the women wore a shit ton of makeup and perfume. The men tended to smell like nicotine. 

What he didn’t expect was to feel nostalgia. He especially like Foggy’s grandparents, just because of how many memories old-person-scent brought back (which sounded weird, even in Matt’s own head, so he kept his mouth shut.)

Matt tried really hard to just focus on Foggy to get through the rush of family. It would be over, soon, everyone would settle. He just had to hold on until then.

“Hey, Aunt Eyla! Here let me get that,” Foggy grabbed a case from the shorter, older woman, “James, get Mila’s doll, please, she dropped it. Cameron! How were those in-law’s, buddy?”

Foggy cut through the crowd of stocky individuals like a pro, giving out firm handshakes and warm hugs like Opera on cocaine.

Matt smiled and introduced himself to those who could notice him within the chaos, saying simple things like “Nice to meet you, I’m Fogs friend.” 

Matt was forced to ignore the way Foggy’s great grandmothers chittered about “Foggy’s little blind friend.”

Everyone settled eventually, and Matt was able to escape socializing much more as the group made plans. Some had hotel rooms, but, somehow, all the kids under 17 years of age were going to straight up crash in the living room.

Some were going to stay in the basement, and some were in the other guest room. Matt couldn’t help but feel guilty, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to make it worse.

Anna hugged Foggy’s father and addressed the whole family as she said, “Dinner tomorrow will start at 6! Come earlier if you want to help, of course, and any food you bring is always welcome. You’d best bring your pie, Gee-Gee!”

One of the chittering great grandmothers snickered, “Of course, Anna! Only if you make your world-famous mac and cheese!”

It was so…  _ domestic. _ Matt felt like he’d stepped straight into a tv show. Was this normal? Even before the accident, his family hadn’t been so warm… 

So, yeah, he was a little (okay- very) uncomfortable, and more than a little out of place, but Matt still loved Foggy’s family. As everyone did their thing, some rushing to get to their hotels (somehow, half the damn day had gone by), some blowing up air mattresses for the living room, Matt found himself looking for any way to help.

Thank God Foggy saw him ghosting behind all the moving people. He grabbed Matt's arm and pushed him into the kitchen, where Foggy’s siblings and father were all preparing lunch.

“Matt, here, is wanting to help! Get him to work!” With that, Foggy disappeared.  _ Dammit. _

Mr. Nelson addressed Matt first. Matt filed information about him away immediately. He was pretty rotund, but a couple inches taller than Foggy. He had the same facial temperature distribution, most of the heat trapped in his cheeks and ears.

He didn’t wear cologne. He didn’t smoke cigarettes, or chew tobacco, but Matt could tell that he smokes cigars, on occasion. 

Matt also suspected he had a super dadly bushy mustache.

“Uh- you sure, son? You don’t gotta help out. Theo’s got the sandwich meats down. Candace is chopping the vegetables.” 

Mr. Nelson’s voice was very nice, Matt thought. He spoke solemnly and firmly. He understood how Foggy grew to have such a genuine personality.

“Yes,” Matt answered, perhaps a tad quiet, “just, you know. Idle hands. Any way I can help, just, uh, tell me what to do.”

As she went back to her cutting board, Candace dropped bread, cheese, two knives and a cutting board on the counter in front of Matt.

“We get this stuff from the Amish market up the road. So- these need to be sliced.” She said kindly.

Matt smiled in her general direction and nodded, getting to work. He kind of couldn’t believe that they trusted him with this.

As he began cutting the loaves into even slices, he thought of Foggy’s siblings, working close by.

Candace was the youngest, and the only girl. She was chubby, like Foggy. She smelled like daisies and lip gloss. From the sound of it, her hair was tied up in a long ponytail and she wore dangly little earrings. 

She was taller than her mother, but shorter than Theo and Foggy. Matt found himself wondering what she did during the day.

He knew that Theo ran Foggy’s parents butcher shop. Theo was the odd one out, in terms of looks. He was a bit taller than the rest, like his dad, despite being foggy's younger brother. He was also pretty lanky. But he fit right in personality-wise. He was bubbly and kind, if a little quiet compared to Candace.

Theo smelled like raw meat and lavender shampoo. Matt could hear his hand scrub against his stubbly chin every once in a while. Pretty noticeable tic.

Matt liked Foggy’s siblings a lot.

  
  
  


 

It didn’t take long to finish up lunch, but it sure was gone fast.

Matt could tell that Foggy’s dad and siblings (the only ones who knew that he’d been in charge of something that required consistency) were impressed that a blind man could manage in the kitchen.

They, just like Foggy, were polite enough to not make it a thing.

  
  
  
  
  


Thanksgiving day was just as hectic as the first time the family met up to orchestrate the holiday, but Matt could cope now that he had a basic grasp on everyone.

Except the younger cousins, that is. They seemed utterly uninterested in knowing Matt at all. Which Matt was fine with.

And the food was fantastic. Anna made the best macaroni and cheese Matt had ever tasted, and she was glad to hear it. Everything was absolutely delicious.

So, when it ended, Matt made sure to thank Mr. and Mrs. Nelson for allowing him to come over. They’d said that “No apology is necessary, son. From what we hear, you mean a whole lot to our boy. And you know what they say, the more the merrier!”

Matt was glad that his teary eyes couldn’t be seen from behind his glasses.

 

 

 

On the bus ride home, the two were somber. Foggy seemed somewhat relieved. Matt was exhausted, if he was being frank.

“Dude, you look exhausted. Thanks for coming.”

Matt smiled faintly, “Thanks for inviting me. It- uh, it means a lot.”

“You looked overwhelmed. Hope you plan on going with me for Christmas break, even after that.”

“If you’d allow my awkward ass back, I’d agree in a heartbeat.”

Foggy laughed, “Language, Matty.”

Matt laughed with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, whew. A few things to say, y'all.
> 
> First of all- sorry Foggy's family is so weird. I have no clue what his dads name is, so he's just Mr. Nelson. Also, I used Theo from the show and Candace from a different fanfic, which I'm sure is like a fic-writer no-no, but I honestly have no clue whose fic she's from or if its based in any canon at all. So, yeah, I'm so so sorry about that. 
> 
> Also, sorry this fic has a lot less angst than expected. It's like my heart wants emotional breakdowns from my favorite characters but my fingers just don't allow the drama to ensue. So, yeah, I'll try to get better with that. Thanks for sticking with me and my shitty writing, if you still are. 
> 
> <3


	5. Seven Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Heck Guys! I'm so so so sorry that I suck actual ass and haven't uploaded in forever! I'm going to make an effort to upload sometimes... sorry heh.
> 
> This chapter gets heavy, with mention of depression. Sorry.
> 
> It doesn't go very in depth, and idk... it didn't feel great writing it. I think I did a poor job of portraying anything well, but hopefully you all can read it without developing aneurysms.
> 
> Seriously, thank you for reading. <3

During final exams, Matt spent almost all of his time studying. So much time studying, Foggy often had to remind him how hungry he was.

 Foggy studied, too, but also decided to have a life. So he went out with Marci or some of his other friends, but he tried to come home before too late so he could force Matt to eat something.

 After final exams, and during winter break (which was extra long- Thank you, college!) Matt didn’t do much of anything.

 Yeah, at first he went and celebrated with Foggy and some of their mutual friends. He even had some eggnog with Marcus. That was fun.

 Now, though, Matt felt a little… empty? He wasn’t sure how to explain it.

 Oddly enough, his general mood as of late reminded him of how he felt after he heard his dad die. He’d heard what’d happened, and was waiting in the police station in just his pajamas, crying endlessly, listening to the whole world crumble around him, yet somehow feeling rather… empty.

 Of course, now, it wasn’t anywhere as intense (if emptiness could even be intense.) Even so, it was somewhat overwhelming.

 It made it hard to get out of bed, now. He’d wake up at 10, late for Matt, and stay there until 1 pm.

 Foggy, the Godsend he was, noticed immediately.

 The first day it happened (the second Monday of Christmas break) Foggy didn’t say anything about it. He did notice, though.

 He got up at his usual time of 9:30 (usual when there were no classes to attend, that is) and fully expected Matt to already be up and meditating or something. The kid was weird. Foggy didn’t judge.

 But instead, he found Matt sleeping away in the bed across from him. So, okay, maybe Matt’s sick. Or maybe sleeping for 3 hours a night for a week straight finally caught up to him.

 Foggy set to work, making the best damn breakfast he could. Sausage, bacon, pancakes, waffles, french toast, grits, you name it.

 At 10:30, breakfast all done, Matt didn’t stir. Foggy didn’t mind, he just fixed himself a plate and dug in, then got up to clean the mess. Thirty minutes later, Foggy hopped in the shower then decided to run some errands.

 Matt, meanwhile, was lying awake in his bed. Listening to Foggy go about his usual business and feeling disgusting and sweaty and shameful.

 If he’d just been able to get up when he usually did instead of lazing around, he wouldn’t be feeling as gross. He’ll just have to wait until Foggy gets bored and leaves to get into the shower.

 When Foggy left at 11, though, Matt still couldn’t bring himself around. It took an hour to convince himself to sit up despite the heaviness. And another half an hour to get to the bathroom.

 And once he was there, he simply couldn’t move with his usual briskness. He stumbled and got caught up on dumb things, like the fact that one of the tiles was cracked, and it took him far too long to actually get into the shower.

 By the time he got out, got dressed, and stumbled back into his own dorm, Foggy was already home, unpacking some groceries he bought.

 “Hey, buddy! I thought you might’ve smelt it, but, uh… I made breakfast. It’s a bit cold but I didn’t make it too long ago.”

 Matt had that familiar ridiculous urge to cry at how lucky he was to have Foggy in his life, but instead, he managed a pained smile and a quiet ‘thank you’ and grabbed a plate. And he pretended like it was all okay.

  
  


The next morning was basically the same, except Foggy just grabbed leftovers and didn’t leave the house.

 So, by 12, he got a bit concerned.

 “...Matt? You sick?”

 “...No…”

 “Hm. You hungry? It’s almost time for lunch, we could head down to the cafe or something. Or order pizza. Ah, dude, we haven’t had pizza in, like, three weeks. That’s gotta be a record. A really sad record.”

 Matt couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

 “Anyway, sorry, uh, are you hungry?”

 “No, Foggy.”

 Foggy frowned. He’s never seen Matt sick, so he doesn’t really know how he handles it, but he knows Matt’s personality. He knows that Matt tries to make big deals seem small.

 So Foggy does what he thinks is best and orders a pizza (despite having bought groceries yesterday) and hopes that Matt will come around and eat something.

 And he does. At 2 o’clock, he stumbles out of the bathroom and grabs a slice and settles onto his bed and eats it slowly.

 Foggy put his laptop away and was going to ask Matt if he was sure he wasn’t sick, but Matt finished off his pizza and laid back on his bed before Foggy could get a word out.

  
  


So, yeah, on the third day, Foggy was worried.

 “Dude, are you sure you’re not sick? It’s three o’clock. I could get you some medicine…”

 Foggy was starting to think that it really wasn’t that he was sick.

 When he was met with silence, he just said, “Okay, man, that’s fine.”

 He walked over to his bag and pulled out his laptop, then searched “I think my friend is depressed”. He clicked on one of the links and fell into a hole of information.

 From what he gathered, his friend probably had depression. Or, at least, was having a depressive episode.

 Thinking back, Foggy remembered Matt being more irritable and down on himself. He didn’t eat much usually, but lately he’d been eating even less.

 Foggy recalled Matt having trouble falling asleep the night before the first night he got up late.

 So Foggy started looking for something else: “How to help a friend with depression”.

 He found a list of do’s and don’ts.

 

  * __Don’t try telling them to be strong or anything of the sort. Often, in trying to help, we say something that can be discouraging.__


  * _Don’t get frustrated at your friend's lack of confidence and interests_


  * _Don’t join your depressed friend in his depression._



 

 

  * __Do maintain a warm, caring relationship. Free of hostility.__


  * _Learn to cope_


  * _Learn what depression is_



 

Matt had hardly moved. Foggy got up from his laptop and walked over to Matt’s bed, settling on the floor beside it.

 “Matt, are you thirsty? Do you want some water?”

 Matt didn’t answer, so Foggy got back up and grabbed a glass of water then returned to his spot by Matt’s bed.

 Foggy patted Matt’s shoulder, hoping he’d turn onto his side and accept the glass of water, which he did with a breathy sigh.

 “Good. Okay, buddy, what about food? You hungry?”

 Matt held onto his glass listlessly. “No.”

 “Okay, that’s fine. Maybe later. How, uh, how do you feel?”

 Matt didn’t know how to answer that. Part of him wanted to say that he felt fine, but that wasn't the truth. Really, he felt heavy and empty and gross. He felt like moving simply wasn’t worth the effort. Nothing was worth the effort. And that’s what he found himself replying:

 “I feel like nothing is worth the effort, Fog.”

 “Okay, buddy,” Foggy replied. Matt felt like he could practically taste the disappointment rolling off of him. When Foggy got up, Matt figured he was just going to leave.

 Instead, Foggy went to the kitchen and made grilled cheese sandwiches for the two of them, then set up his laptop and played one of the movies they had with audio descriptions.

 “Scooch over, man,” Foggy said to Matt, who dazedly complied.

  
  


 

 

The depressive episode lasted four more days after that. On the last day, Matt got up at his usual time, 6 am.

 Foggy was relieved when he woke up and found a note Matt had scribbled saying that he went work out and get some coffee. Foggy was less relieved when Matt walked in twenty minutes later with a split lip, two cups of coffee, and a dazzling grin.

 “Here, Fogs,” Matt handed one of the cups to Foggy.

 “Uh, thanks, man… Are you okay?”

 Matt’s grin became muted, but he still had something like a smile as he ducked his head.

 “Yeah, Foggy. I just… I need to thank you. For being with me. And sorry about… y’know, about all that. I’m not really sure what that was…”

 Foggy shuffled his feet uncomfortably for a moment. “Matt,” he started, haltingly, “I think that you might have depression. Or- I don’t know. Something similar.”

 Matt’s smile completely disappeared then.

 “Maybe you should see a doctor,” Foggy continued, “just to make sure that you can get all the help you need.”

 “No, no, it was a one-time thing. Really, I’m fine, Foggy. An-and I appreciate you helping me and all, and it won’t happen again. So it’s okay, really,” Matt replied vehemently.

 “Okay, okay, man. What, uh, what happened to your lip?”

 “It got… smacked… by a frisbee… Came out of nowhere. Some. You know, kids. With a frisbee.”

 Foggy didn’t believe a word of it, but he made an affirming noise and nodded, sipping his coffee.

 Maybe Matt was right. Maybe it was a one-time thing, and it happened, and it’s over.

 Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed. I wanted to briefly let you guys know that I'm starting another Daredevil series, soon... If you guys have anything you really wanted to see, I might write something (ik I'm not v good, but I really need some inspiration tbh..)
> 
> Thanks for reading. :)


	6. Cheap Wine and Holy Shit that's Sad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy has a plan. Oof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. My writing always sucks, but I truly think this one takes the cake. 
> 
> I hope you can manage to get through it. Thanks for reading <3

The week after “The Incident” (as Foggy called it, silently, only to himself), Foggy kept an eye out for Matt.

 Not that he didn’t always, but he really paid attention now. If Matt seemed even a little down on himself, Foggy found some way to turn it around. He made sure that Matt ate when he was supposed to, and even went out and bought those nice gummy vitamins, hoping that if Matt felt better physically, it’d translate mentally.

 But tonight was special. Foggy was on his way back to the dorm with three bottles of wine. Cheap wine, but wine nonetheless. And he was planning on getting absolutely hangered.

 It had become a thing between them. A way for two best friends to become even better friends. Matt wasn’t forthcoming on… well, anything. But if you got enough alcohol in his system, he talked more about his past than usual.

 So far, Foggy hadn’t gotten too much out of Matt. Mostly stories about his dad, or different shenanigans the kids at the orphanage pulled on the nuns. He hadn’t been told anything else about Matt’s mentor, either.

 But that wasn’t the main point of the wine anyway.

 “What’s the point in _wine,_ Fogs?” Matt asked as Foggy pulled out two glasses.

 “Man, I just want to chill for as long as possible, and you don’t like it when we smoke here.”

 “It lingers.”

 Foggy snorted and filled the two glasses, then passed one to Matt.

 

And after an hour and a half passed, they were in their usual spots on the floor, leaning against Foggy’s bed.

 “Hey, Fogs?”

 “Yeah, Matty?”

 “This- Don’t laugh. It’s a bit,” Matt broke his own rule and interrupted himself with a laugh before composing himself and continuing, “It’s a bit late in the game for this, but can I ask you something?”

 “Shoot.”

 “What color is your hair?”

Oh. “Oh. It’s blond. Dirty blond.”

 “Eyes?”

 “I don’t know. Like, grayish? Heh, I think.”

 “Okay. Last one- er, two. Maybe.” Matt crossed himself, making Foggy let out a startled laugh.

 Matt sent him an exasperated, but fond, look and continued, “What color is my hair?”

 “Wh-” Foggy giggled, “What’s the big deal with that question? It’s, like, brown. Well, reddish brown. In fact, In the right lighting, it could be red. Huh.”

 Matt sighed exaggeratedly. “Good. Last I remember, it was lighter than you described. Unless I’m understanding you wrong, which, I’m really hoping I’m not.”

 Foggy let out a chesty laugh. “You were, like, a legit red-head?”

 “It was still brown-ish!”

 “Holy shit, I w- hmm.”

 Matt narrowed his sightless eyes at Foggy. “What were you going to say, Fogs?”

 “It’s kind of an inappropriate comment…”

 “That’s fine, what is it?” Matt asked, fully expecting to be teased about his red-headedness (and not really minding it, so long as his curiosity was abated.)

 “Um, well, I was wondering what your dad looked like. And your mom, for you to have your hair color,” Foggy laughed nervously, “not as big of a deal, now that I’ve said it… and, uh, made it a big deal. Christ, sorry.”

 Matt simply smiled, a bit dopey, for a moment. He seemed to be mulling over his answer.

 “Well… I’ve got a picture of my dad, but… erm, my mom, I-I never met her. Or got a picture, or anything.”

 “...Can I ask why?”

 Matt sighed and drained his glass.

 “She left us. When I was a baby, she left. My dad used to refuse to talk about her but… uh, after the accident, when I first got home, he-he told me the truth. That she was sick, and left.”

 Matt looked as though he was staring through the floor. He cleared his throat and continued.

 “Something about how she thought… well, she wasn’t in her right mind, and she almost hurt me. And afterward, she left. Thought we’d be better off, I guess. So, uh, yeah. No pictures.”

 Foggy poured more wine into each of their glasses, and they drank through the much more somber tone.

 “I’m sorry, Matt.”

 “Nothing to apologize for, Foggy. But thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride! Thanks for reading. You're awesome for sticking with me so far :D


	7. A Right Female Dog, That One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy receives a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy wow. I suuuuuck. I can not believe it took me this long to get back to y'all. I'm so sorry if you've been waiting. I'm going to keep trying with this story. Now that it's summer, I have much more time to devote to writing. Thank you so much for sticking with me, if you are. This one isn't long, but I hope you enjoy!

Matt knows that Foggy sometimes gets panicky. Who doesn’t?

It’s almost always over silly things, like almost dropping his hot dog, or snoozing through an alarm. Sometimes he panics over odd things; things which Matt doesn’t really understand.

Point is, Matt knows what Foggy is like when he panics. His heart speeds up and kicks around against his ribs (his breathing follows suit.) Heat travels to his cheeks and ears, and sometimes behind his eyes. His hands get jittery and can’t sit still.

So when Foggy’s phone rings and his whole body becomes a live-wire of anxiety, Matt is taken aback. Foggy swallows three times before answering his phone.

“Hey, Rosalind.”

“Franklin. Dear. How are you?” A woman's tinny voice met Matt’s ear. Her words were cold and clipped. It reminded Matt of Sister Tatiana, known for being one of the strictest nuns at St. Agnes.

“I’m doing great, Rosalind. Why are you calling?”

“Can’t a mother call to check in on her son?”

Foggy stepped into the hallway as he replied, “Sure, a mother could. You aren’t much of a mother, though.”

Matt felt awful, eavesdropping. He couldn’t not.

“Well, that’s plain rude, Franklin.”

“Just tell me what you want so I can hang up.”

“Fine. Since you’re going to act like that. I’ve received word that a magazine is doing an article about the success of the firm-”

“And you wanted to brag. Great, Rosalind, I’m very impressed. Call me when you get your next Ferrari, can’t wait to hear about it.”

“They want to interview you, Franklin. So, say only nice things. And, please, try to steer the topic from the school you attend and your atrocious grades.”

“4.0 so far, Rosalind, thanks for asking.”

“What will it take? What, do you want money?”

Foggy made a frustrated growly noise that Matt was positive Rosalind couldn’t hear before collecting himself.

“No, Rosalind. I’ll just decline an interview. Talk later.”

He hung up. Matt sat up from his bed (and removed the pillows he’d been pressing to his ears. He’d really wanted Foggy to have privacy, but. As always.) It took Foggy a moment to walk in, however. And when he did, he acted like nothing had happened.

His body was tensed like a spring pulled back, but he sounded like his usual laid-back self.

“Sorry about that. Ugh, I’m hungry. You want some ramen?”

“Sure, Fogs. Are you okay?”

Foggy rummaged in their little tiny ‘kitchen’ for ramen. Matt though Foggy was ignoring the question, but he wasn’t.

“That was my mom. My-My biological mom. She has this… really famous firm. But she doesn’t want much to do with me, usually.”

“What’d she want just now?”

“Something about a magazine article. I don’t know, I try to forget as many of our conversations as I can…”

Matt suspected Foggy’d be mulling their conversation over for a while to come.

 

\---

Foggy noticed the way Matt acted, after Rosalind’s phone call. He was… a lot brighter around Foggy. He even _suggested_ going to a party.

But he never offered any outright comfort, Foggy noticed. When they’d eaten their ramen that night, Matt had inched closer to Foggy than usual, but never touched him. Foggy was acutely aware that this was his way of showing he cared. Of attempting to cheer Foggy up. Developmental years spent in a cold, impersonal orphanage probably seriously shaped the way he showed affection.

It didn’t escape Foggy how important any amount of affection shown from Matt was. Foggy wondered how much of it was intentional. Not that he would ever ask, of course.

In fact, he often felt a little guilty at how he observed Matt. Foggy almost treated it like a scientist trying to figure out the characteristics of a new-found species. Homo Inanis.

Perhaps Foggy was still trying to distract himself from the jarring phone call. He’d been no-contact for over a year. He should have known that it wouldn’t last. Of course she’d find some reason to control him-

And you know what else is odd? Matt moves with so much grace for a blind man. Maybe that’s, like, ableist or something. Foggy wasn’t sure. Either way, he bet that Matt could be a dancer. He wondered if it had to do with Matt’s father, ‘Battlin Jack’.

Foggy felt pretty lucky to have Matt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I'm going to try to upload more. I know this one ended pretty abruptly, but I had to get something out asap. Thanks again for reading. Any and all criticism is welcomed!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prophetic answers. Not really, though, I just don't know what to put as a summary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Sorry it's short. I'm going to keep trying, guys. Enjoy.

Matt was forever grateful to have found Foggy.

 Sometimes, Matt wanted to tell him _everything._  All of it. All of his dad, his friends before the accident, his life right after. All of the pain of losing his father, his life being uprooted. Stick, and… all of it.

 But he didn’t.

  _Why? Why, you dumbass?_

  _I don’t know._

 He should really tell Foggy. It made even more sense, the more inebriated he got.

 Speaking of inebriation- Matt bought rum and juice, to cheer Foggy up. (After the phone call, Foggy was on edge more often. The start of a new year was… rough, so far.)

 “I should tell you, Foggy.”

 “Tell me what, Matt?”

 “...That.... That, um… I’m sloshed.”

 “Wow, okay. What are we avoiding today? Cause you’ve only had two, asshole.”

 Matt chuckled. Maybe another time.  
  
  


\----

  
Oh god, oh fuck. The fucking reporter. She wasn’t bluffing, she wasn’t just bragging. God dammit.

 “What are you talking about, Fog?”

 “There’s a lady coming right to us. And she’s a reporter. God fucking da-”

 A tall woman in flats shoved her hand to Foggy’s chest for a shake, a grin plastered on her face that hardly reached her eyes.

 “Hi! Franklin Nelson, correct?”

 “...Maybe. Why?”

 “I’m Cadence Allen. I have a few questions for an article about your mom. Would you mind having a chat?”

 Matt grabbed Foggy’s shoulder, “Actually, he’s got to get to class.”

 “Yeah, class,” Foggy said, harnessing every ounce of self-control to not hug Matt or run.

 “Good thing this will only take a second, hm? I’ll walk with you. First things first,” she pulled a pad and pen out of goddamn nowhere. Proven: she’s a fucking witch, god fu-

 “You are in your second year of law school, correct?”

 “Yep,” Foggy replied. He was essentially speed walking, and reminded himself to apologize to Matt, later, for dragging him along like this.

 “When you’re through with school, are you joining Rosalind Sharpe’s law firm?”

 “As if that bitch would accept me.”

 (Matt snickered at his side.)

 “What was that?”

 “I said: probably not. I’d like to branch off. Besides, New York is my home, and… well, I’ve got plans here. Is that all?”

 Cadence Allen looked at her little pad of paper and frowned, “I mean, not really. Uh, in your experience, do Rosalind’s cutthroat practices in the courtroom translate to her personal life?”

 “This is our class, Cadence. Thanks, I guess.” Foggy pushed Matt into some random room, closing the door on the reporter.

 Matt and Foggy did not have a class that day. Or in that room.

 “Who are you two, interrupting my lecture?”

 “No one, so sorry! Wrong room!” Matt raised his cane as he spoke, as if to say ‘see? Oh, silly blind kid!’ and pushed Foggy right back out of the room.

 Cadence was walking away. Foggy and Matt sprinted the opposite direction, further into the school.

 

Well, it was a nice day for a walk around campus anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. It means so much. Any criticism is accepted. Also, I'm working on another Daredevil fic... stay tuned, I'll try my best to not disappoint.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you didn't hate it. I'm going to be adding some more chapters, of course, but I can't promise that they'll come out quickly. I love any and all feedback and I take all constructive criticism into account, so rip me apart, y'all.


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